Chapter Text
3 Years Ago
Corona’s prison barge had been overthrown months ago. Not that anyone was the wiser. Saporians, dressed in royal guard apparel, were undetectable as imitations, marching the same circuits the guards always had. Should anyone from the mainland choose to examine the floating dungeon, they’d spot nothing out of the ordinary as it floated closer and closer to the capital. Undercover, the Saporians traversed on and off the barge at will, sneaking equipment and elements on board.
In Varian’s old cell, turned workspace, a lantern containing his newest concoction sat on a worktable made of a door lying flat atop two crates. The mixture glowed an arcane green. A back wall was plastered with crossed out equations, schematic variations, and tally marks he’d eventually given up on.
Kneeling, Varian worked on their integral instrument. Soldering with his bandana pulled up to his goggles, fusing mount plate to frame, the torch roared in his ears. It took a while to notice someone repeating his name in a muffled shout. He flicked the tool off and turned, yanking the bandana down to expose his face.
“Time’s up,” said Andrew, elbows resting on either side of the open cell door. “We’re moving into position.”
“Almost done.” Varian stood and lifted a drum magazine. The weight inside teetered as a glut of miniature alchemy orbs rolled about in the chamber. He affixed it to the device with a twist and click.
Sauntering inside, Andrew bent to inspect the contraption. Seated on a two-wheeled mount, the rapid-fire weapon housed six barrels spun by a crank. The gravity fed drum would drop orb after orb into the chamber of each barrel. A set of guide handles weren’t just for aiming but had squeeze triggers built into them that fired the orbs in a constant barrage. “Whoa. You weren’t wrong.” Andrew straightened, seeming pleased. “Looks like this thing’ll make a mess out of anyone who stands in our path.” He rewarded Varian with a punch in the arm and a winning grin. “Good job, buddy.”
Varian lifted his goggles and frowned. “No, no. This is an alchemical-loaded rotary cannon of my own design. I’ve stocked it with non-lethal ammunition. It’ll stop people, sure, but it won’t hurt anybody.” Saporians, if allowed their ways, could be petty, aggressive, and righteously sadistic. He didn’t want suffering as much as justice, a righting of the scales.
A rumble of irritation crossed Andrew's face, and his eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t the deal. They will try to hurt us.”
Standing his ground, Varian shook his head. He swung a pack full of additional orbs over his shoulders, cache resting against his long Saporian coat. “This is my deal. No one can repent what they’ve done if they don’t survive.” A storm brewed within him, erratic and dangerous. Images flashed through his mind as a series of pictures.
Amber.
Snow.
Rapunzel in the arms of her family while he remained an orphan.
Pain flared so sharply it almost cut through his chest. A throb of red formed around his vision. His fists, in their embellished gloves, clenched. “And I am owed restitution.”
Easygoing Andrew cracked a laugh. “Love that Darkness. It’s a good look on you.” He picked up the glowing green lantern filled with Quirinian and headed out.
Varian forced a few deep, quaking breaths, to no avail. All he owned was suffering, rage, and memory. Prison barge guards had taken Ruddiger from him when he arrived. Varian had no idea what happened to him. In his cell, the only thing he’d had to do was contemplate, sinking into his wrath, falling deeper and deeper into a pit with no light at the top. When he tried to explain the feeling to his cellmate, Andrew called it his Darkness, with a capital D. The name stuck.
With no friends, and certainly no one who believed in him, the only constant in his life was Andrew’s presence. Desperate for approval, scant praise from Andrew caused something to harden and clarify inside Varian, like carbon under pressure. He learned to ball his anger and redirect it, confirming that this course must be his destiny, as every solution he could think of led to the same place – revenge.
When the Saporians arrived to sack the barge, they’d come for Andrew but adopted Varian as a bonus. Eager to impress his new clan, he spent months teaching the basics of alchemy to refugees from a lost kingdom that leaned heavily on magic. They were a people without a homeland, and greedy enough to readily accept new methods of devastation in order to get what they wanted.
Varian wheeled his rotary cannon out of the housing of interior cells and onto the barge deck. It was the middle of the night. The island of Corona drew nearer, the castle’s gleaming towers reaching for the stars. Dark streets were vacant, citizens in their beds and none the wiser.
Saporians tossed out berthing lines, securing them to posts at the harbor. The barge knocked against the dock with a gentle thump. Out in the night, a few muffled grunts marked waterfront guards being subdued. “Let’s go, kid,” Andrew said, disembarking with a wink. The lantern dangled from his hand. “It’s your big moment.”
Armed with swords, maces, and witchcraft, the Saporians slipped through the harbor and the empty streets of the sleeping city. Varian rolled the cannon alongside them, its wheels skipping along cobblestone streets. He waited to feel something, anything. It didn’t feel like going home. There was nothing left to reclaim.
They set up before the palace gates. At the center, Varian kicked locks into place at the bottom of the cannon’s wheels. The Saporians shifted and leered in anticipation, adjusting weapons and looking to Andrew for the signal. Without a word, Andrew hurled the Quirinian lantern to smash against the palace gates. A mild explosion sent green flames to lick up the entry arch. The gates cracked but held.
Voices rose, the sounds of guards mobilizing inside the courtyard that separated the gates from the castle. Andrew gave Varian a delighted smile and nodded. The Saporians stepped to either side of the gates, clearing a path. Varian pulled his goggles down. He turned the hand crank on the cannon until it built enough kinetic energy for the barrels to rotate on their own.
Staring down the sight as the barrels spun, Varian gripped the cannon’s guide handles. This was it, the night he’d reckon with Rapunzel for the final time. An ending was close. His soul filled with serrated edges, all broken glass and gravel. Tears welled as he clenched his teeth.
The gates opened. A sliver of golden light poured from inside the palace walls.
“For you, dad,” he whispered, and squeezed the triggers.